


Beating Heart

by Quillpaw



Category: Mystery Skulls (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillpaw/pseuds/Quillpaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He woke to the sound of his own heartbeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beating Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I tried so hard not to write this. I tried to be strong. But no, the stupid pink pompadour skeleton just swooped in and ruined my life. I wrote fanfiction for a music video, there is no hope left for me.

He woke to the sound of his own heartbeat. It pounded in his chest, louder and more forceful than he could ever remember. Each beat sent a painful throb through his chest, reverberating through his whole body. For what seemed like an eternity he laid there, consumed by the pulse of his pounding heart.

When he woke properly, he found himself in darkness. Shapes moved around him, whispered to him, intoning in time to the rhythm of his heart. He was told of what this place once was, a deep cavern shaped by malicious intent. But that specter had gone, had vanished nearly the same moment he had arrived. He wondered if he should be thankful for that, wondered if that had been his doing. He couldn't remember. These beings, whatever they were, seemed to want to defer to him. They seemed mesmerized by his pulse, completely entranced with him. They told him this place was his to do as he wished.

He had never been a greedy man (at least, not that he remembered), but the thought of having his own stately mansion seemed appealing. He suggested the idea to the entities around him, and with their agreement, a stately mansion there was. The manor was his, and his alone. The specters became his guards, his servants, his attendants. Everything within his walls moved with the beat of his heart. For a while, he let himself enjoy the lavish lifestyle, indulged himself as he wished. But as time passed (how much time? He had no way to tell, save by counting heartbeats.) an eternity of luxury seemed less and less desirable. Finally, he shut himself away, seeking respite. He fell into something akin to sleep. And he began to experience something akin to dreaming.

He saw the cave the specters had spoken of. It was a place of evil, and the thought of setting foot inside made his heart pound louder still. He saw a cliff, a sheer drop to a bed of stalagmites far below. He felt the hand between his shoulderblades, felt himself falling, falling, falling-- a burst of fiery agony, of his heart trying to rip free of his chest. He heard a woman scream his name-- Lewis, it was Lewis-- then the darkness swallowed him up.

He woke from the nightmare, stalking through the manor to escape the feeling having his heart torn from him. He gazed out of a window into the cool night, feeling the memories churning beneath the surface of his thoughts, intermingling with the pounding of his heart. "Vivi," he sighed. "Vivi..." The name made his heart ache, but he said it again and again, clutching at his chest. Then he remembered why he was not with Vivi now. He thought of the one who had sent him to this place, who had made his heart hurt him so. He stared out at the twisting thorn branches that enclosed his mansion, and the very air seemed to grow darker around him. "Arthur..." The name burned him like fire. " _Arthur...!_ "

Miles away from the mansion, a single dog heard the sound of an unholy scream. He got up, and went to round up his companions. Soon, they had loaded up the van, and were on the road, bouncing in time to a rhythm that seemed to fill the very air. The rhythm of a beating heart.


End file.
